Gethsemene
by reba
Summary: Happy Easter! Sorry It's a bit late


Disclaimer:  I own nothing, I claim no ownership, I have no way of making money on this…please…please don't sue.  Just borrowing the characters for my own fun and amusement.  Have fun reading. 

**Note:** All Dialogue in Cantonese is (parenthetical), OK?  Can't write in that language so join me as we pretend together.

Gethsemane 

This year's Easter morning had promised to be a wet and rainy day, but sometime in the night, the storm had blown over, and the sun shone warmly on the spring earth, already drying the grass stems and the dripping leaves.

"Joseph Francis Cartwright!  Get up!  It's Easter morning and I do not intend on being late for services." 

"Yes, Papa."

Ben Cartwright, knowing his youngest son too well, started up the stairs anyway to ensure that little Joe had the proper motivation.

Joseph, knowing his Papa, got his nine-year-old-self moving faster and was trying to button his cuffs when his father opened his bedroom door.

"Good morning, Papa.  He has risen!"

"He has risen, indeed."  Ben smiled warmly at his youngest son's memory.  The minister had talked about those two phrases on Palm Sunday, saying that they should greet each other in such a way on Easter, like the Christians of the first century church did so long ago.  Of his three sons, Joseph was the one who remembered the traditional Easter greeting between believers.

"Let me help you with those.  Hoss and Adam are already at the table."

"Papa!  Are we going to have the picnic and Easter egg roll after service?  It looks to be a good day!"

"That's the way it looks to me too, little man.  Hop Sing has already packed the basket."

Joseph's smile warmed Ben's heart.  "It'll be fun, Papa!  I wish Hoss would hunt eggs with me, though."  His face became solemn, and then he grinned impishly, pulling on Ben's hand to hurry him downstairs.

"I know, Papa!  I'll share with Hoss.  I'll give him all the gumdrops and half the chocolate."

Ben patted his back gently.  "That's very generous of you, Joseph.  But what about Adam?"

"Oh, Adam's too old to want to hunt eggs, but I'll give him some candy too, if he wants some."

Ben smiled at his youngest as he watched the boy run ahead down the stairs.  He heard him greet his fifteen and twenty-one-year-old brothers with the same 'He is risen' and was pleased to hear Hoss and Adam respond in kind, 'He is risen indeed'.

Then Adam's voice rose above Joe's chatter. "I'm proud of you, Joe.  I didn't remember that saying this morning, but you did, didn't you, buddy?

"Yep.  Thanks Adam!"  Joe came around the table to hug his oldest brother.  Adam hugged back and then set him at his seat, tweaking his nose.

"Mornin' short shanks.  Yore mighty cheery today.  I expect yore lookin' forward to them games at the picnic?"

Joe nodded as Ben took his place at the head of the table.  They all bowed their heads.  "Joe, would you please ask the blessing?"

"Yes, Papa.  We thank you, Lord, not only for this food, but for the many blessings you shower upon us.  Please bless Papa and Adam and Hoss and Hop Sing.  Amen."

"Amen."  Everyone echoed, smiling at the youngest Cartwright.

Reverend Evers stood in the doorway at the close of the service.  He was shaking hands with each member of his flock.  As it was Easter, the crowd was bigger than the usual Sunday, and he enjoyed seeing those twice-a-year attendees.  He hadn't seen many of these faces since Christmas.

"Sure was a fine service, Reverend."  Hoss pumped the minister's hand.  

"Hello, Ben.  Good to see you, boys.  Adam.  How was that book I loaned you?"

"I enjoyed it very much.  I'll bring it by the parsonage this week, sir."

"Great!  If I'm there, I'd love to discuss it with you."

Hiram Evers felt a tug at his sleeve and looked down.  His eyes brightened as he saw one of his favorite parishioners, Joseph Cartwright.  "Hello, little Joe!  You look fine today!  There are some eggs out there waiting for you."

"Howdy, Reverend."

He knelt next to the little boy.  "Did you like the service today?"

Ben, Adam and Hoss held a collective breath.  This was a scary question to pose, but Reverend Evers had a sense of humor and had fielded some strange commentary from little Joe before.  Nevertheless, they all were hopeful that the boy would say something innocuous to the minister, so they could exit gracefully.

But it was not to be.

"Reverend, when you said 'Jesus rose from the dead' did he rise like bread dough and bust his way out o' those wrappings?  Or did he rise like Lazarus and them two angels unwrapped him when he came out?"

Ben closed his eyes for a moment.  He could hear the spinster sisters Esther and Virginia Wells' sharp intakes of breath and then their hissed whispering.  Hoss and Adam unsuccessfully stifled laughs at their father's expression.  The ladies' whispering became audible.  "Well, I never!  That child has no sense of propriety!  And those older two encourage him.  What a question to ask on such a holy day!"

Joe blushed and became very interested in the toes of his boots.  "I'm sorry."  He whispered, cutting his eyes between the Reverend and his Papa.

"No, Joseph.  I think that you've asked an excellent question."  Hiram's glare silenced the ladies still waiting behind the Cartwright family.  "I've often wondered about that myself since the Bible doesn't say exactly how He got out of His grave clothes, just that He wasn't there when Mary Magdalene came, and later, when Peter and John visited the tomb.  And that's the message of Easter, Joe.  That Jesus has risen.  That Jesus has the power over death and the grave.  That we need not fear either one, because He has conquered both."

"So if we believe in Him, we don't need to fear dyin', right?"

"Right."

Ben smiled gratefully at the Reverend as he herded Joseph out ahead of him.

"You've got quite a son, there, Ben.  I wish all of my congregation listened as attentively as he does."  Hiram whispered this as Ben and the older boys passed him.

"Thank you, Reverend.  We'll see you at the picnic."

"You can count on it.  I know that Hop Sing must have made his fried chicken, am I right?"

"I'll save you some pieces, Reverend."  Hoss said, thankful for the man's kindness to his young brother.

"Come on Joe.  I'll race ya to the buggy.  You can help me tote all the goodies that Hop Sing sent, all right, Pa?"

Ben nodded, and his two youngest sons took off toward their buggy.

"I'm glad we have such an understanding minister, Pa."

"He's a good man, Adam.  I hope that he stays with us for a long time to come.  We had better catch up to those two brothers of yours.  I want to lay down some rules of behavior for my youngest before he runs off with his friends."

Ben and Adam easily located Hoss at the food tables.  Unfortunately, Joe had already found some friends and was nowhere to be seen.

"I think he's behind the church, Pa.  I told him to keep clean and come back when the bell was rung for the egg roll."

Ben clapped Hoss on the back.  "That's just the instruction that I would have given, son.  I can see that you boys will be just fine while I'm gone."

"We'll sure miss ya, Pa.  A whole week is a long time."

"I know, but it can't be helped.  The Nevada mining association's annual meeting is an important one.  We need to make sure our interests are represented."

Hoss nodded glumly.  He would miss Pa, to be sure, but at least half of his sadness was for little Joe.  Pa hadn't told him yet, preferring to have him enjoy the day and then tell him tonight that he was leaving early in the morning.  Joe hated it when Pa left, and Hoss wasn't looking forward to his and Adam's inevitable clashes.  Neither of his brothers was very patient, and both had a hard time seeing anything from the other's point of view.  He knew that he'd be asked to side with one or the other.  His stomach knotted up at the thought of the long week ahead.

"Hoss?  Would you mind fetching Joseph?  It looks like the food line is beginning, and I want him to eat something besides candy today."

Adam spotted Hoss's longing look at the loaded tables and cut in.  "Hey, Pa.  Let me get Joe.  He'll need to get used to me calling him to meals.  I'm sure that he'll hear it enough over the next few days."

Ben smiled and shooed him off with a wave of his hand.  "I think Hoss may need to stay and supervise Hop Sing's chicken anyway.  Thank you, Adam."

Hoss's look of extreme gratitude made Adam laugh aloud.  'That boy and his stomach—if there was a sure thing in the world, it was Hoss and his love of eating.'

Meanwhile, Joe had had every intention of obeying Hoss's warnings.  But he, Mitch, Alan and Michael had found a new stream behind the Church's necessary.  They were happily chucking acorns from the old oak tree into it to see who could make the biggest splash.  The splashes could only be judged against a person, so they had all taken turns being the human yardstick.  By the time Adam spotted them, all four boys were liberally splattered with the muddy water.

"Joseph Francis Cartwright!"

Joe jumped, and dropped the acorns that he was still holding.  Adam scared him a little.  He could hardly remember the Adam from before he left for college, and he was still getting used to the man that had come back.

"What are you doing?  No.  Don't answer that.  I can see what you are doing."  He sniffed the air as he got close to the little group.  "Boys.  Didn't you notice where this stream ran off from?  You're all playing in wastewater.  Joe, I know that Hoss told you to stay clean.  All you boys get up to the pump and clean off.  I'll meet you there.  I need to find some soap."  He smelled them again as they trudged past him. 'Yep.  It was run off from the outhouse, all right.'

Adam finally located some lye soap and washed the boys' arms and hands.  Then, he used a rag to clean their faces.  "You boys stay away from that stream, now.  You hear?"

A chorus of subdued "Yes, Adam"'s made him smile a little.  No harm done then.

Adam never reported his brother's wayward adventure to his Pa, reasoning that he'd taken care of it and wanting a peaceful departure between the oldest and youngest Cartwright's.  

As he rode behind his Pa's buggy, he remembered Joe's look of surprise when he had joined them at lunch, but had said nothing about the water game.  Joe had sat by him at lunch, too, and had even offered Adam choice pickings from his bag of Easter candy, nuts, and fruit.  They had shared a smile of understanding, then, as Joe realized that Adam was going to keep what happened between them.  

For his part, Joe had stayed well away from the rain created stream of dirty water, even when his friends wandered back and began splashing each other.  The little girls squealed and tried to dodge the splashes of water, but they didn't leave—secretly loving the teasing attention of the boys' antics.  Not wanting to totally miss out on the excitement, Joe watched the play from a safe distance.  He was glad that he'd obeyed Adam when Mark and Mitch's fathers showed up and tanned them in front of everyone.  Parents then cleared the area, collecting and scolding their smelly children, and several fathers agreed to meet the following Saturday to dig new necessaries for the Church.  This time in a better location, so the contents would stay put, even in heavy rains.

A very tired little Joe fell asleep in the buggy on the way home late that afternoon.  Joe smiled as he slept.  He was dreaming that he was the Captain of a three-mast schooner.  He could feel the waves rolling beneath the keel.  His crew was looking for pirates, and as he scanned the horizon, he felt the deck lurch under him, and he began to fall.

Joe yelped as his head smacked the back of the buggy seat.  His Pa's abrupt halt had tumbled him forward to the floor of the buggy.

"Sorry, Joseph.  I stopped too quickly.  Are you all right?"

Joe rubbed his head.  "Yeah, Pa.  It's O.K.  But my bag spilled."  He scrambled to pick up the fallen treats.

Ben helped him gather his candy, and then watched as he ran inside to tell Hop Sing all about the day.  He would miss Joseph this next week.  He'd miss all the boys, but Joe seemed to change from day to day now.  He was growing up so fast.  Ben shook his head.  He needed to tell Joseph about the trip, and there was no reason to put it off anymore.

"No!  You can't go, papa!  It's vacation week at school, and you promised that you'd take me camping the next vacation.  You promised!"  Joe slammed his hand against the table, red-faced.  He was furious at his inability to control his tears, so he turned away from his father and brothers.

"Joseph.  Look at me."

Joe dragged his sleeve over his eyes and turned back reluctantly.

"I know that you're disappointed, but you will not use that tone of voice with me, nor are you allowed to pound your fist like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum."

"I'm sorry, Pa."  Joe whispered, ashamed of his tears and his behavior.  "But, please don't leave!"  His eyes pled without words, telling Ben just how much his youngest still needed his daily presence to feel secure.

"Son."  He put his hands on Joseph's shoulders and could feel them shaking under his hands.  "Listen, boy.  I don't want to go, but I must."

"Can't..can't you take me, then, Papa?  Please?"  Joe's eyes overflowed again, and he pressed the heels of his hands against his face, hiding his weakness from his family.  He rubbed at his tears and then looked again at his Pa.  "Please, Pa?  I'm out of school, so I wouldn't miss anything…"  His voice trailed off as he saw his father's firm headshake.

"This will be a hard trip, and I'll be in meetings all day.  I'm sorry, son, but you will be fine here with Adam."

Joe's eyes lit up with hope at Adam's name.  "Pa!  Can't you send Adam?  He could 'represent your interests'—then you could stay."

Ben smiled briefly at Joseph's use of his phrase.  "Joseph.  Adam will probably go with me next year, and then he may decide that he wants to take over that aspect of running this ranch, but that is in the future."  Adam looked pleased.  Ben had not discussed this with him yet.  He was happy with his Pa's confidence in his abilities.

Joe hung his head, no longer trying to control his tears as he spoke of his worst fear.  "Papa…what…what if somethin' happens to you"  What if ya don't come home?"  He didn't wait for an answer; he just turned on his heels and ran upstairs.

Ben started to follow, but Adam took his arm.  "Pa.  He's scared, and he knows that you can't promise him what he wants to hear—that nothing will happen to you.  He's right.  It could.  Would you let me talk to him first?"  

Ben hesitated, remembering a long ago conversation with another dark-haired boy.  He finally nodded, his eyes still on the stairs.

Adam knocked on Joe's door.

"Come in."

Joe was curled on his side, his back to the door.

"Hey, buddy.  Can we talk for a few minutes?"

Joe nodded.  He was fingering his Mama's picture.  He'd pulled it off his nightstand and was holding it.

"Joe.  When Hoss's Ma died, I was a few years younger than you are now.  For years after that, I followed Pa everywhere, and when I couldn't be where he was, I couldn't sleep.  I felt that if I were with him, he'd be safe, somehow.  And…and if something did happen, at least it would happen to me too, so we'd still be together."

Adam had Joe's full attention. 

"I never knew you felt like that, Adam."

"We've never talked about that time, Joe."

"That's..that's just the way I feel.  I can't stand it when he's away.  I feel turned inside out, afraid…what if he doesn't come home?"

"Oh, Joe.  You know that that could happen, so I won't tell you that it couldn't."

"What did you do, then?  How do you keep from being so afraid?"

"I finally talked to Pa about it.  Kind of like you just did.  He told me the same thing that I'm telling you now.  We don't have any guarantee beyond this minute we are living right now, but we mustn't let that stop us from living the minute that God has given us.  He also told me that he had two—now three—of the best reasons in the world to be careful and to come back to us.  You understand, Joe?"

Joe nodded seriously, and then smiled as Ben came in the room and sat down on the bed.  "Adam's right, son.  God gave me him, and Hoss, and you to live for, and I promise you that I'll always do my best to come back to you boys."

"And we can pray for each other while we're apart, right, Papa?"

"Yes, boy, we can, and I know that God hears our prayers."  He patted his lap and Joe climbed eagerly aboard.  "You know that you have an angel assigned to you, too, don't you boy?  The Good Book says in Matthew 18:10 that your angel in heaven always sees the face of God.  You can't have more direct access than that!  So whenever you get afraid, you need to pray; will you do that?  Because your Papa can sure use all the prayers he can get."

"Yes, Papa!" Joe's hands reached as far around his Pa as he could and squeezed.   Ben hugged him back.

"Hop Sing has supper on the table.  Think you left room for any?"

"Yes, sir.  We'd better hurry before Hoss fills his plate, though."

Joe scooted down and ran ahead of them.

"Walk in the house, boy."  He shared a smile with Adam at his mock growl of anger.

Joe easily heard through it and giggled.  "Yes Papa!"  He took the stairs two at a time and ran to the dinner table.

Ben spent extra time in his youngest son's room that night.  He knew that he would leave too early for Joe to see him off, so he wanted to make sure that he said a proper goodbye tonight.

"You'll be back Saturday night, Papa?"

"That's my plan, Joseph.  I'll try to wire you boys if I'm delayed."

"I love you, Papa."

"I love you, too.  Be good for Hoss, Adam, and Hop Sing.  Mind Adam.  I don't want a bad report when I return."

"I'll be good, Papa.  I promise."  Joe yawned.

"Close those eyes now, boy.  It's late." 

Joe did, but he did not let go of his Papa's hand.  Ben waited for him to fall asleep, not minding the extra bit of pampering and knowing that he would miss the next five nights of stories and good night kisses.

After a few minutes, Joe sighed and turned over on his belly, his hand slipping from his father's. Ben kissed his forehead and left the room to talk to Hoss and Adam.

He spent extra time with Hoss as well.  Ben adjusted his covers and told him how much Adam would depend on him this week.  "I'm proud of you, Hoss.  I know that you'll try to help both of your brothers have a smooth week."

"I'll do my best, Pa."

"You always do, my son.  Goodnight, I love you."

"Goodnight, Pa.  I love you too.  Be safe."

"I will son."

Adam listened patiently as his Pa went over what needed to be done.  This was the third time that he'd heard it, but he realized that Pa was nervous about leaving him with everything for so long.  He hadn't been back from college that long.  He was still a little nervous himself.

"I'll do my best, Pa."  He said.  Unknowingly echoing his younger brother.

Ben stopped mid-sentence and smiled sheepishly. "I'm being a worrier.  Fine thing, after my talk with little Joe.  Sorry, Adam.  You know that I trust you, son."

"I think that we'd both better go to bed, Pa.  I don't know which one of us will have the harder week, and we need our rest."

Appreciating his son's humor, Ben chuckled and nodded his agreement.

"Despite your baby brother's promises to behave—I think that I'll take my week over yours.  Trouble seems to shadow that child."

He laughed at Adam's expression and then went up to bed.

Adam had many moments over the next few days to remember his father's prediction and marvel at its accuracy.  At least he hoped Pa's week was going easier than his.

He walked out on the porch and threw the contents of his coffee cup into the dirt.  He grimaced.  The yelling was starting early this morning.

"Dadburn it, little Joe!  If you wasn't so much in a rush!  Just wait a danged minute!

Adam sighed in response to the raised voices and crashing clanks coming from behind the barn.  Hoss was throwing something by the sound of it.  Joe must have really done it this time.  It took a lot to get Hoss this riled.

Adam was still adjusting to life on the ranch after three years in Boston. 'Face it, Adam, you are not in civilized country anymore.  And from the sound of the escalating quarreling from behind the barn, civilization is still very far away from this family.'  He squared his shoulders and went to investigate.  Pa had left him in charge, after all.

As he walked around the side of the barn, he remembered his Pa's instructions.  "I know that you're a man now, Adam.  And I trust you to make all the decisions while I'm away, including any discipline needed for your brothers or for the crew.  You can rely on Clem; he's been foreman here for years, and he will help with the scheduling and the supplies.  Hoss and Hop Sing can be counted on to help with Joseph—but don't hesitate to warm his backside if he gets into too much mischief."

Adam smiled wryly at the term 'too much mischief'.  Joe seemed to attract mischief like a picnic attracts ants.

He left off his musings when the latest 'mischief' came into view.  Joe had decided to help Hoss with the sorting and checking of the branding irons.  Poor Hoss was sitting in the dirt, trying to make some order out of the chaotic pile of metal before him.  Joe's 'help' scuttled his every attempt, and as Adam watched, the boy almost brained Hoss as he swung yet another iron around for his older brother's inspection.

"Hey, Adam!"  Joe greeted him cheerfully, dropping the branding iron on Hoss's outstretched leg.  Adam winced in sympathy.  At least it wasn't hot.

"OUCH!  Little Joe!  I oughta wallop you with one o' these, and then you'd know how it feels!" Hoss rubbed furiously at his unfortunate kneecap, glaring up at his little brother.

"Hoss.  I'm sorry—I didn't mean ta hurt ya."  Joe said contritely.

Adam, taking pity on Hoss, and correctly reading the desperation in his eyes, came over in time to pluck yet another wildly swinging iron from Joe's hands.  Putting his arm around his youngest brother, he turned him and began to gently direct him back to the yard.  "Little Joe, I think that Hop Sing needs the eggs collected, and I know that the kindling wants filling.  I think that Hoss can manage the rest by himself."

"But Adam.  I want to help.  Hoss helps me all the time, and I can help with this, right, Hoss?"

"Joseph."  Adam said firmly.  "It wasn't a request.  The egg gathering and wood box are your responsibility.  Go do them.  Now."

He felt Joe's back stiffen under his hand and hoped that this would not develop into yet another war of wills.  He and Joe had had three major disagreements and countless minor squabbles since Pa left five days ago.  Adam was too weary to be patient with his youngest charge anymore.  What with the running of the ranch and having sole responsibility of two younger brothers, he was stretched too thin for adequate sleep.   It was becoming a struggle just to be patient with this willful child.

"But Adam!  I can do all that later!"  Joe had dug in his heels.  Again.

"Go! Now!"  Adam pushed Joe toward the chicken coop and punctuated his words with a firm swat on Joe's behind.

"OW!  Ya didn't have ta do that, Adam!  That hurt!"  Joe's sea green eyes filled with hurt, and he slowly rubbed his seat.  The older brothers watched as he reluctantly walked away.

"Aww, Adam.  He didn't mean no harm." Said Hoss, ever soft-hearted, as Joe disappeared around the side of the barn, feet dragging in the dirt and head hanging dejectedly.

"Well, if you want, I'll go and get him back, so he can help you some more, Hoss."  Adam smiled at his look of alarm.

"Naw.  He does need to get his own chores done.  Yore right, big brother.  I jest know he misses Pa.  That's why he's so prickly lately."

Adam sighed.  He didn't think that the swat should have reduced Joe to near tears, but if the kid missed Pa that much, maybe he shouldn't have sent him off to be alone.  Maybe Joe had just wanted company.  He sighed again.  How did Pa do this?  Kids like Joe should come with some sort of instruction book, so a person could have some idea what to do in a difficult situation.  He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

"Don't worry so much, big brother.  He'll likely be chattering away at Hop Sing and have forgotten all about this spat."  Hoss smiled kindly at him.

"I'll leave you to sort this out then.  I have to go over the accounts before Pa gets home.  See you at supper, Hoss."

Hoss saluted him with a branding iron, and Adam laughed as he strolled toward the house.

Joe peeped at his oldest brother from behind the chicken coop.  He was still blinking away tears of hurt and anger.  Why did Adam have to swat him?  He was just trying to help.  His backside was still smarting.  It hurt worse now than when Adam smacked him.  Joe had had a headache since last night, and now his backside throbbed in time to the pain in his head.  Come to think of it, his shoulders were hurting too, and his neck was stiff.  He hoped that he wasn't taking sick.  It was Friday, and he was looking forward to going fishing with Hoss and Adam—well, Hoss, anyway.  Thinking about the fishing trip tomorrow made him remember the last trip with Pa and Hoss.  He wished Pa were here.  The thought made fresh tears roll down his cheeks, and as he lifted his hand to wipe them away, he groaned a little at the sharp pain in his neck and the stiffness in his shoulder.  Maybe he slept funny last night.  He'd probably feel better after a good night's rest.

Joe felt under the hens and collected all the eggs within easy reach.  There were a couple of nest boxes above his head, so he put the basket down and moved the crate over to stand on.  He stepped up, his right leg stiff for some reason, and after he had gathered the four eggs above him, he climbed down.  He stumbled a little and almost dropped two of the eggs.  His right leg felt like it was going to sleep.  What was wrong with him, anyway?  Carefully, he placed the eggs in the basket and started toward the kitchen, trying to shake some feeling back into his leg.

Joe knocked on the kitchen door.

(It's me, Hop Sing!)

(Wait one minute, little Joe.  Welcome.  What do you have for me?)

(Just the eggs.  I got seventeen today.  What are you making?)

(Cookies)

(Can I help?)

(It's may I help, little Joe, and yes, you may help.  You may crack the eggs when it's time to add them.  You may also lick the spoon.  Just don't tell Hoss.)

They laughed together.

Adam had put his pen down to listen.  He was always slightly shocked to hear his little brother speak so fluently in Cantonese to Hop Sing.  He felt…left out, somehow, when he heard it, but a larger part of him was proud of Joe's language ability and a little ashamed that the rest of the family had never taken the time and effort to learn more of their loyal friend's native tongue.  Joe had picked it up easily from babyhood on, and now he and Hop Sing carried on long conversations together.  It made Adam wonder if Joe would also be fluent in French if Marie had lived.  Undoubtedly, he concluded.  All their lives would be different had Marie lived.  He looked over at the pictures on the desk in front of him: his mother, Elizabeth, Hoss's Ma, Inger, and Joe's Mama, Marie.  He ran his fingers gently over the three frames.  He'd never known his mother.  Inger had been his Ma, when he needed one so desperately.  He swallowed, his throat tight.  The pain of her death was still very real to him.  He had resisted Marie's efforts to mother him for years.  He didn't want to be hurt again.  But she had been so patient with him, finally winning him over.  He supposed that Joe's birth had helped their relationship firmly cement.

Marie had given the tiny baby to Adam on the day of his birth.   Adam had sat by the bed with him, and watched Marie sleep.  He had marveled at the tiny fingers and toes, and he smiled now at the memory of the infant Joe's grip in his little finger.  Adam had been amazed at the strength of his new brother's grip and also at Marie's trust in him.  She'd gone to sleep, giving the care of her newborn to him—a boy not much older then than Joe is now.  He shook his head, still in awe of the confidence she had shown in him.  When Pa had come in later, he had found Joe securely nestled in Adam's arms, sucking his tiny thumb, his green eyes fixed on Adam's brown ones.  Adam had looked up and whispered.  "Just look at him, Pa.  He's perfect."  Adam hadn't realized that he was crying until Pa reached out and gently wiped his tears away, his own eyes filling at the sight of his oldest and youngest sons there together.

Adam shook his head. 'Time to stop woolgathering.'  He admonished himself.  'You'll never get the paperwork done at this rate.'  He had just directed his attention to the second column of accounts payable when a loud yell made him flinch, and his pen splattered ink across the page.  He slammed the pen down in frustration and anger.  What now?

(What did you do?)  
(I'm sorry!  It just slipped out of my hand!)

(You have broken every egg!  Now we will have no cookies tonight or eggs for breakfast tomorrow!  You need to leave.  Get out of the kitchen now!)

(Hop Sing.  It was an accident.  Really…)

(You were not being careful!  And now you are tracking egg yoke all over my clean floor, and making a bigger mess.  Leave the kitchen now!)

The sound of clattering utensils and loud exclamations followed a bedraggled looking Joseph as he stumbled into the main room.

Adam stood.  "What happened, little Joe?"

"Adam. The basket slipped.  I didn't mean it, but Hop Sing's really mad, and…"

"So I hear.  What basket?"

"The eggs.  And now Hop Sing told me that…"

"All the eggs are broken?"  Adam looked sharply at Joe.  It was no secret that Adam really liked his eggs in the morning, but then, so did Joe.

Joe glanced at Adam and then looked away.  It was easy to see that Adam was mad, too.  This day wasn't going so good.  He wished Pa were home.  "Yes, Adam.  All the eggs."

Adam crossed his arms and glared down at Joe.  "Joseph.  You need to be more careful!  Just slow down some and take your time, then you will be…"

"ADAM!! It was an accident!  I couldn't help it, I said."  Joe's temper was on the rise.  He didn't know why the eggs had fallen.  He had had a very tight grip on the basket handle, but it suddenly seemed like his fingers had lost all strength and feeling, and the basket had dumped sideways, spilling the eggs in a brown cascade to the hard kitchen floor.  There, they had all cracked open, and a big puddle of yellow and clear goo was the result, its sticky surface littered with shell pieces.

Adam's eyebrows rose at the increased volume of Joe's voice, and he rapidly closed the distance between them.  Hop Sing's voice had sunk to an occasional mutter as his mop slapped the floor as if to reinforce whatever he was saying.

"Young man, you had better watch your tone with me."

"Adam!  I'm just trying to tell you my side of what happened.  I didn't mean to.."

Adam interrupted.  "Did you apologize to Hop Sing?"

"Yes.  But he's still mad."

"Then you need to stay out of his way for awhile.  He'll get over it soon—probably by suppertime.  Joe, the point of this, which I hope is not lost, is that you need to accept that it is your responsibility that the eggs broke.   They were in your hand, right?"

Joe nodded, his eyes downcast.

"Look at me, Joe."

Joe looked up, and Adam was dismayed to see that the child was crying again.  Hoss must be right.  Joe was sensitive, but it took more than Hop Sing's temper and one swat from him to bring Joe to tears.

Joe swiped at his eyes with his sleeve.  "I know that, Adam.  I just meant that I didn't let go of them."

"Then how did they fall?"

"They…just slipped."  Joe looked troubled.  "I don't understand it because I know that I had a good grip, Adam.  I had a good hold on the basket."  He was rubbing his left wrist with his other hand, and Adam could read the confusion in his eyes.

"Joe.  I want you to get the wood now.  Dinner will be ready in a while, so you should have time to get the box filled.  Then you'll be back in Hop Sing's good graces."

Joe gave him a small smile, happy that Adam wasn't going to dish out any more smacks for his disrespect.  His backside still hurt.

During supper, Joe mostly pushed his food around, eating very little.  His head hurt bad, and now his neck did too.  He tried to prop his aching head onto his fist, but Adam kept tapping his arm with his fork to remind him that no mannerly child ate with elbows on the table.  After the third tap, Joe snapped angrily.

"MAY I be excused, PLEASE?"

Adam threw down his napkin and said in a dangerously quiet voice.  "Little Joe.  I have reminded you several times about your tone of voice.  You will treat me with respect or…"  
"I'm sorry, Adam.  Don't tan me no more.  Please, may I leave the table?"  Joe looked on the verge of tears again, and he was rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Adam looked over at Hoss. He could see his concern also.  "Joe, do you feel all right?"  Adam's voice had softened.

"I…I'm tired, I guess.  May I be excused?"

"You didn't eat much of anything, buddy.  You know the rule.."  
"No dinner, no dessert.  I know, Adam.  I don't care.  Hoss can have mine."

Hoss looked downright alarmed at Joe's voluntary sacrifice of his dessert.  "You O.K.?  Little Joe?  You feeling poorly?  I hope ya ain't getting sick.  I got a new fishin' hole to show ya."

Joe smiled at Hoss.  "I think that I just want to go ta bed.  Get an early start tomorrow.  I'm just tired.  Please, Adam."

"All right.  I'll be up to tuck you in later, little Joe.  Good night."

"Good night, short shanks.  Hope ya feel better, little brother."

"Good night, Hoss.  Good night, Adam."  

Joe got up and slowly made his way to the stairs.  His head was pounding.  It felt like someone was drumming away in there and the pain echoed around his head and down his spine.  He was really hurting.  Despite his best efforts to control it, he whimpered a bit as he climbed the stairs.  His footfalls jarred all the way to the crown of his head.  He was afraid that he'd throw up if it got any worse.  

It was too much effort to change into his nightshirt, so he just lay down fully clothed.  He was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

The rooster woke Joe at five-thirty, and as he rolled over, he realized that Adam must have come in as promised because he now had on a nightshirt.  He blushed a little.  He was too old for Adam to be changing his clothes for him.  He must have been sleeping hard not to have been awakened.  

Joe decided that he would surprise Adam and Hoss and do their barn chores before breakfast.  He was ashamed of the way he'd acted toward Adam yesterday.  Maybe this would make up for it.  He smiled as he pictured their pleased faces. He padded over to his dresser to wash up.  He wished that his head felt better this morning, though.  

As he lifted the porcelain pitcher to fill the basin, it slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor.  Joe froze, he was shocked at the noise and the drenching he'd just received.  He could already hear Adam's door slam open and Hoss's sleepy yell.

"What in tarnation was that?  Dagnabit!  It's still dark outside!"

Joe knelt quickly to pick up the pieces.  At least that's what he attempted to do.  Instead, he lost his balance and came down hard on his hands and knees.  What was going on?  He looked in bewilderment at the mess he'd made, and now he had landed himself in the middle of it.  Unfortunately, both knees and his left hand had found porcelain shards the hard way.  Joe rocked backward on his heels awestruck at the blood and broken pottery surrounding him. 'This was the start of yet another wonderful day,' he groaned to himself.  The pain finally registered then, and he bit down on a yell, knowing that he'd already made way too much noise for a Saturday morning.  Adam and Hoss had made it clear many times in the past that they expected to take full advantage of Pa's Saturday morning sleep-in time.  Breakfast wasn't even served before eight most Saturdays.

Adam stomped down the hall.  "Joe, what is going on?!"

Joe cringed backward.  Adam was madder than a snake when his sleep got interrupted.  He rubbed his eyes nervously, streaking blood across his face.  His knees and his hand were really stinging now.  He looked over quickly as his door was thrown open.  "Joe!  If you think you'll avoid a trip over my knee this time…"

Adam stopped abruptly, his mouth still open.  He closed his mouth, and then said quickly.  "Don't move, Joe."

"A..all..r..r..right"  Joe's teeth were chattering.  His headache had returned with a vengeance and he felt sick to his stomach, looking at the disaster around him.

"Hoss.  Get Hop Sing, some hot water and some bandages.  Little brother's hurt himself."  Hoss's large footfalls reversed and Joe heard him thump down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Adam lifted Joe back onto his bed and stripped off the wet nightshirt in one fluid motion.  He wrapped a quilt around Joe's shoulders.

"I..I..I'm s..s..sorry..A..A..Adam.  I…I  b..b..broke M…ma's pitcher. It s..s..sl..slipped out of my h..h..hands."

Adam was worried.  Joe couldn't seem to stop shaking and his knees were still bleeding heavily.  He needed to check for slivers of glass under Joe's skin.  From the puddle of bloody water on the floor, his brother had already lost a good amount of blood.  He needed to get this bleeding stopped soon.  Joe was getting whiter by the minute.

"All right, little brother.  I'm going to check out those knees first."  Adam looked over as Hop Sing and Hoss entered.

(What did you do?  You're bleeding everywhere!)

(I broke Mama's pitcher, Hop Sing.)  Joe's chin trembled and two big tears trailed down his white face.

"English, please.  Both of you."  

Joe looked startled.  He was always surprised when he realized that his brothers and his Pa didn't speak or understand Hop Sing's words.  Hop Sing winked at him, and Joe giggled a little through his tears.

"Lil' Joe.  We clean you out, then you feel all better."

Hop Sing brushed Adam's hands aside and quickly probed, washed, and bandaged Joe's knees.

Hoss patted Joe's unhurt arm.  "Well, I'll need to hold on ta yore fishin' pole for sure, little brother.  You sure did yourself up right this mornin'.  I suppose that's one way to get outta chores.  Yore too hurt for chores, but not too banged up for fishin'."

Joe wasn't paying any attention to the blood he'd lost or the fuss Hoss was making over him to cheer him up.  His eyes were fixed on Adam's hands, picking up the pieces of Ma's pitcher.  "Adam?  Please don't throw it away.  Can't we fix it?"

"It's beyond that, I'm afraid, little buddy."  Adam looked at the sad little face.  "Parts of it are way too smashed.  I'm sorry, Joe."

Joe bowed his head.  He wouldn't cry anymore.  It was sort of silly to be sad over a pitcher, but it was his Mama's, and he felt like he'd lost a piece of her.  He was angry at his own clumsiness.  He closed his eyes so he wouldn't see Adam dispose of it.  Why was he so ham-fisted lately?  First the eggs and now the pitcher.

A stab of pain made his eyes open wide.  "Ouch!"

(Sorry, little Joe.  You had a glass shard in your hand, but I've pulled it out now.)

(Thank you.)

"English!"  Hoss and Adam said together.  Joe rolled his eyes and giggled a little bit at their faces.  They really had no idea what he and Hop Sing had just said.  It was so strange to know something that they didn't.

"All done.  Boy rest now.  Maybe fish later, not now.  Lose too much blood to leave bed now.  Lil' Joe lay down. Hop Sing bring breakfast to you."

"Hoo boy!  Not only no chores, but breakfast in bed.  Short shanks, you landed in a bed of daisies today."  Hoss smiled and patted Joe's shoulder.  "You want Adam and me to have breakfast with ya, Joe?"

"If..if you don't mind.  I..I'd like the company."

Adam nodded.  "I think that we're done sleeping for today, anyway.  That was quite a wake-up call, little Joe."  At Joe's reddening face, Adam quickly added.  "I wish it hadn't happened that way, but I'm glad to be up, and I'm very glad you're all right.  Joe, I'm sorry about your Mama's pitcher."  

Joe nodded soberly, and then looked up at him with a little humor in his gaze.  "I guess this means that you'll have to get the worms for me today, Adam.  I mean, I can't risk getting this dirty."  He held up his bandaged left hand.  "Hop Sing would skin me."

Adam nodded, glowering darkly.  Joe's smile faltered.  Seeing this, Adam's face relaxed into a smile of his own.  "I'm just kidding you, Joe.  Sorry I did too good a job looking upset.  Why don't you wiggle down among your covers and try to rest until Hoss and I get back with breakfast?  Hop Sing is right.  You're still looking a little pale."

Adam waited until Joe was lying down, and then he and Hoss left quietly to dress and see about breakfast.

The brothers enjoyed a breakfast picnic on Joe's bed, and the older boys were delighted to see a bit of color return to Joe's cheeks as he lay there and ate with them.  When they were almost finished, Adam nudged Hoss and pointed.  Joe was yawning hugely and rubbing his eyes with his unbandaged hand.  Hoss moved the breakfast tray and sat down on the bed.  Joe leaned against him while Adam talked about their plans for the day's fishing trip.  Hoss felt Joe relax against him and signaled Adam that he was sleeping.

"Good job, Hoss."  Adam whispered, as he eased Joe down on his pillow and off his big brother's shoulder.

"He's gonna be mighty upset when he wakes up, Adam."

"We'll still go fishing, but you and I will get some work done around here while he rests.  He needs it, Hoss.  I am still concerned that he might be getting ill."

"I know that he didn't eat much last night, Adam.  But he ate good this mornin'—especially for Joe.  He's gonna be jest fine, big brother.  I still think that all he needs is for Pa to be home, and that's happenin' tonight."

Adam shushed him as he shut Joe's door.  The brothers walked down the stairs together and out the front door where they went their separate ways.  Hoss would muck out the barn and tend the animals while Adam would hand out the assignments to the crew.  Clem had left to purchase supplies yesterday late, and he'd be coming back sometime before noon, so that left it up to Adam to get the hands going to their various jobs for the day.

Adam had just sent off the last two hands, Alan and Mark, to ride fence in the north pasture.  He, Hoss, and Clem would finish the ranch chores, and then have the rest of the day to themselves.  He was looking forward to the feel of the cool grass on his back as he stretched out on the shore of the lake.  He'd let Hoss and little Joe do the fishing.  Today, he'd supervise.

He was turning to go back to the house and check on Joe when he heard a wagon approaching.  If that was Clem, he was pushing the horses too hard.

He waited on the porch.  Clem had jumped out of the wagon as soon as he'd reined in the team.  He spotted Adam and ran to meet him.

"Clem.  Hold up.  What's going on?  It's not like you to drive a team so hard."

Clem didn't answer.  His face was set, and Adam could see the fear in his eyes.  He had thrust a paper forward for Adam to take and his hand was shaking slightly.

"What's this?"  Adam took the flyer and smoothed it.  He scanned it quickly and then reread it, his insides knotting up.  He knew why Clem was so afraid.  Adam whispered the words aloud.

"Warning: to citizens of Virginia City and outlying areas.  Twenty-two confirmed cases of Paralytic Poliomyelitis in the last three days.  Ten deaths.

Symptoms:  Headache, neck and back pain, pain in extremities.  Patient can exhibit diarrhea and vomiting and high fever.  In severe cases, paralysis in legs, arms, or chest muscles can result.

Treatment:  Notify Dr. Martin at once if you or your family are ill.  Quarantine is the only known method to contain the spread of the virus.  Boil all bedding and wash with lye soap to eliminate contamination.  Treat fever with cool compresses or ice, and use warm cloths as a palliative for pain.

Those most at risk: children

Signed, Paul Martin, MD

"Adam.  I seen this before in Texas.  Lots o' kids died, or was crippled.  Shoot, Adam.  Since this flyer was made, five other little ones have died."  Clem wiped the sweat off his forehead with his handkerchief.  "I sure am glad yore brothers is out here and not in town.  Ta think that I almost took Hoss with me this time."  He shuddered.

"Thanks, Clem.  I think that we all should steer clear of Virginia City for a while.  Spread the word to the hands as they come in today."

"You bet I will.  I'm gonna go wash up after I put this team away, and then I'll start on that tack repair."

"Thanks."

"You still plannin' on goin' fishin'?"

"Yep.  I don't think that Joe would forgive me if I cancelled on him, especially considering that's all he's talked about today.  Do you want to come, Clem?  We'll wait for you."

"Naw.  You brothers need ta be alone.  Ya ain't been back too terribly long.  It'll do ya good ta be together jest the three of ya."

"You're sure?"

"Yep.  Jest make sure ta catch me a big one fer supper.  I sure do like what Hop Sing does with a fish."

Adam clapped Clem on the back and went into the house.  Joe should be awake by now.  He took the stairs two at a time, eager to share some fun with Joe.  The kid had had a hard two days now; two accidents that he'd felt real bad about, and some cuts as reminders.  Adam hoped that they'd have a peaceful afternoon together.  With any luck, Pa should be home for a fish fry dinner.

Joe's door was open and his bed was empty.  Adam could see his nightshirt still in a heap on the floor.  He picked it up to give to Hop Sing.  "Hey, Joe.  You up here?"

He walked back down the hall.  Hop Sing came out of the kitchen and called up to him.  "Little boy rush out of here long time ago.  He look green.  You get him to come in so Hop Sing check.  He look sick."

Adam froze as he remembered the notice shoved in his pocket.  Then he raced downstairs and out the door.

"You bad as brother.  Run in house, slam doors.  Your father not be happy."  He continued in Cantonese as he went back into his kitchen.  
Adam paused briefly at the porch to look around, and then he headed to the outhouse.  It was the logical place to go if you looked green.

"Joe.  Are you in there?"

"Adam.  I'll be out in awhile."

"You O.K?"  The sounds and smell told him that Joe was most definitely not O.K.  "Hop Sing said you looked kind of sick, buddy."

"I..I'm all right, Adam.  I just have to go real bad."

"Joe.  I'm not trying to be nosy, but there's something going around.  Is your stomach feeling upset?"

"Yeah.  My stomach hurts bad, Adam.  And my head.  I'm really cold."

"I'm going to wait out here for you buddy."  Adam's heart constricted as he tried not to pace.  'God.  Please.'  He pleaded.  'Just let this be something he ate.'

"Hey Adam!  Thar's plenty of trees round here if ya can't wait!"  Hoss's laugh cut off abruptly as he looked at Adam's face.  "What's wrong, older brother?"

Adam walked swiftly toward Hoss and met him in the yard.  "Probably nothing.  But Joe's got some of the symptoms on the flyer."

Hoss's face lost all color.  "Clem was tellin' me…"

"Yeah.  But we don't know for sure.  Let's not panic."

"Adam.  Clem was tellin' me who all took sick.  It's all them little kids at the Easter picnic.  They was playin' in that dirty water, and you told me that Joe did that too."  His eyes were wide and filled with terror.  "Adam.  Most of them kids is dead."

"I know Hoss.  Send Clem back to town with a note for Dr. Martin to come out here as soon as he can.  And you need to stay well away from Joe until we know for sure what he has."

"What about you?  You could get it too—we could all have it already, Adam!"

"Just go and tell Clem.  I need to get back to Joe."

Hoss nodded and turned away, fear for his young brother evident on his face.

By the time Adam reached the outhouse door, Joe was coming out.

'Oh no.' Adam groaned inwardly.  Joe was waxy pale, and visibly shaking as he fumbled with the latch.

"I got it, little brother."  Adam reached past him to close the door, and as he did, he could feel the heat radiating off Joe's skin.

"I think we need to get you back inside, buddy."  He swung Joe into his arms, trying not to show his fear.  But Joe was very perceptive.

"Adam…what's wrong?  I've never felt this way before.  My head hurts something awful, even worse today than yesterday, and my stomach just twists and twists.  I'm so cold.  What's wrong with me?"

"I don't know for sure, but Clem went to leave word for Dr. Martin to come out and check on you.  In the meantime, you'll just have to settle for me and Hop Sing, all right?"

Joe didn't answer, and Adam lengthened his stride, adrenaline giving him extra energy.  As soon as he was on the porch, Hop Sing opened the door.

(I knew you were sick, little Joe.)

(You always know, Hop Sing)

Adam set Joe down in front of the fire and listened to the man and boy talk quietly.

(Where does it hurt?)

(My head hurts the worst, but my stomach burns and my arms and legs feel funny.)

(Funny how?  Describe it to me)  
(They feel like they're asleep.  Then they wake up and burn—like pins and needles poking me, but much worse.  It hurts much worse than when I got too cold in the snow at Christmas.)

(You lay back now.  We'll take care of you.  I'm going to make you something to help settle your stomach.)

Adam sat next to the boy, and Joe put his head in his brother's lap.  Adam looked down at his brother's white face and felt more helpless and afraid now than he had when the Indians were attacking and Inger died.  He wished that Pa were here.

Hop Sing tapped his shoulder.  "I go get what I need.  You keep boy still and warm."

He handed Adam two blankets and then turned and quickly threw more wood on the fire.

Joe's hand was pressed to his stomach and his face twisted a little as he bit his lip.  Adam knew that he was hurting.  He spread the blankets over his brother and tucked him in.

"Adam?"  Joe whispered.  "Is Pa going to be home soon?"

"I hope so, buddy.  Why don't you try to sleep a little more?  The time will go by more quickly."

"Stay here with me, Adam? Please?"  Joe's hand had found his and was squeezing it weakly.

"You couldn't get rid of me if you wanted to, little man."

Joe smiled up at him and then closed his eyes.  It was the last time that Adam saw awareness in Joe's eyes for many hours.

For Adam, the day dragged slowly toward evening.  Joe got steadily hotter.  He moaned and twisted in his arms.  He and Hop Sing tried to get water and broth into him, but Joe just brought everything back up.  They had long ago discarded the blankets and were trying to cool the boy with water and ice, but it didn't seem to make any difference.

Hoss stood by the doorway to the kitchen, as close as Adam would let him get, and watched anxiously.  Hop Sing put him to work chopping ice and washing sheets, but otherwise, he stood by, as helpless as they all were to help Joe battle the illness.

Joe cried out for his Papa, sometimes talking to him, his eyes staring into the distance.  In his delirium, he talked to Hop Sing, and his voice sounded so young that Adam knew that he was far in the past.  Hop Sing confirmed it when he told the boys that Joe was asking for his Mama to come and tell him a story.  Hop Sing answered him softly and Joe smiled a little.

"I told boy his Mama very near now."  

Adam knew that this was Hop Sing's way of telling them that Joe would probably die, but he couldn't accept it.  He shook his head dully.  Hop Sing was standing in front of him with a glass of water.  "You drink.  All of it.  You need rest, Mr. Adam.  You stay here, hold boy, but rest now.  Close eyes.  I will watch lil' Joe."

"No.  Not until Pa gets here.  What time is it, Hoss?"  
"Three-forty, Adam.  I got Clem waiting on the road outside Virginia City.  He'll get Pa here quick."

"That was good thinking, Hoss.  I'm proud of you."  Adam smiled over his shoulder at his brother, and received a tremulous smile in return.

Joe was very still now.  His temperature was still high, but it didn't seem to be going any higher.  He cried out weakly, and Adam knew that he was hurting.  It tore at him not to be able to do anything.  It was torture to have to watch and to know that there was nothing he could do to ease the boy's pain.  He closed his eyes and prayed for his father's safe return; he prayed that God would choose to spare little Joe, and he prayed that they would be able to accept it if Joe died.  'Oh, God.  Please don't take him.'  Adam could feel the dry burning in his eyes, but he would not cry.  It would scare Hoss, and he needed to be strong for him and Joe. 'Please, Pa. Get home.  We need you here.'  These words repeated in his brain as he laid his head back against the settee and rubbed his eyes.

(Papa.  I can't move my legs.  They're burning, Papa.  I can't move them!  Help me.)

Adam looked over at Hop Sing.  His face revealed nothing as he answered Joe quietly.

(Rest Joseph.  Papa and Mama are near.  You don't need to move now.  You need to rest.  When you need your legs, God will give them to you.)

(Papa!  I'm so tired.  It hurts!)

(What hurts?)  
(My legs, my hands.  They burn.)  
(Do you feel Adam holding you?  Do you feel his legs under your head?)  
(I'm so tired.)

(Then rest, but don't leave Joseph.  Wait for your Papa to speak to you.  Wait.)

(Mama's here now.  I want to go with her.)

(Your Mama will wait for you.  She would want you to rest now, so you will be strong enough to talk to your Papa.)

(I want Papa!  Oh it hurts!)

Adam waited, but Hop Sing did not tell him what Joe had said.

"Put these on feet—we change when they get cold.  Maybe it help the pain."

They placed hot towels on Joe's legs, and his eyes opened briefly, but Adam didn't see him focus on anything.

"I hear riders, Adam!"  Hoss disappeared from the kitchen doorway, and Adam could hear him hailing Clem and—thank God—Pa.

He heard his father's familiar tread and felt his hand on his shoulder.  "I'll take him, Adam.  Paul Martin is on his way; we passed him a few miles back."

"Watch his legs, Pa."

Ben lifted Joseph off Adam's lap.  He had been terrified on the road, afraid that Joe would have died before he could reach the house.  But he was more afraid now.  Scared of the hope offered in this still-breathing child.  He had seen the score of fresh graves and read the flyers posted in Virginia City.  He had felt a premonition then that his family would not escape unscathed.  When he saw Clem waiting at the crossroad, his mouth had gone dry, and it was all he could do to meet his eyes and listen to what he did not want to hear.

"Joseph.  Your Pa is here.  Baby, look at me.  Your Papa is here."

Joe did not respond.  Ben looked up at Adam and noted his haggard appearance.  "Sit down, son, before you fall down.  Has Joseph been awake?"

"No Pa.  He talks every now and then—to Hop Sing."

Ben looked over at Hop Sing, puzzled.

"Boy talks in my language, Mr. Cartwright.  His voice very young.  He think is time before his Mama die."

Joe moved his head a little, his eyes opening slightly.

"Joseph.  I'm here with you.  Papa's here.  Dr. Martin will be here soon.  Keep fighting, boy.  Papa needs you to fight."  Ben's voice cracked a little at the end, and Adam, who had risen when he saw Joe move, put a hand on his father's shoulder.

(Papa.  Mama's here.  She said she'll stay with me now.  I want to go with her, Papa.)

"Boy say his Mama here.  Lil' Joe want to go with her now."

Ben held him up to his chest.  "No, Joseph.  Not yet, boy.  You have some living to do first.  Stay, please.  Stay with me.  Stay with your brothers.  Stay."

"Papa."  It was a sigh more than a word, and Joe relaxed.  His eyes were open now, but unseeing.

"Put boy down. Flat down.  Quick.  Now, Mr. Cartwright."

Ben seemed not to hear him, or unable to release the child.  He had felt Joe leave him, felt him go with that whispered word.  Adam finally helped Hop Sing pry his hands away.

(Joseph.  Listen to me now and come back to us.  Your Papa did not give you permission to go.)

Joe jerked a little, his lips opened. (It hurts to breathe.  It hurts.  I'm so tired now.  I want to sleep.)

Ben cradled him, letting Hop Sing place hot towels over Joe's chest and listening to the whispered musical words between the man and his son.

(Not a deep sleep yet, little Joe.  Sleep light.  Wait for the doctor.)

(All right.  I'll wait.)

Ben grasped Hop Sing's hand.  "Friend, I don't know what you said, but I know that Joseph came back to us just now.  Thank you."

"You welcome.  Boy very sick.  Maybe doctor help.  Hop Sing cannot cure this.  Boy must want to live.  You do that for him.  You hold him here.  All of you."

He looked over at Hoss and Adam.  "You love hold him here.  But his pain very bad.  He suffer.  Maybe soon you decide to let him go.  His Mama near.  She wait for you and him to decide."

Ben looked stricken, and Hoss was crying openly.

Adam shook his head.  "No.  Dr. Martin may be able to help, to try something—as long as Joe still is breathing, we need to help him fight.  We won't let him give up."

Adam could hardly stand to stay in the same room with his father; his failure to keep Joe safe ate at him, but he couldn't bear to go, either.  He felt so guilty.  He should have seen that something was wrong with Joe two days ago.  He should have sent for the doctor much earlier.  He should have told his father about the water fight. 

Ben reached up and shook his arm.  "Adam.  Stop it.  I can see the guilt you feel on your face.  This is not your fault, and I won't have you blaming yourself."

Adam freed his arm and turned away.  "I mean it, Adam.  You think that Joe would blame you?  Stop it now."

"All right, Pa.  I'll try."  Adam sat on the floor in front of the fire.  He put his head in his hands.

"Adam."  Ben's voice was quiet now.  "You're exhausted.  Try to sleep, son."

"As soon as Paul gets here, Pa.  I..I just can't now."

Clem stood by Hoss, listening to Mr. Cartwright.  He had his arm around the big boy.  "It's all right, Hoss.  Yore little brother, he's a fighter.  The doc will help him; I jest know it."  Clem stopped and cocked his head.  "Listen, boy.  I think that's the doc's buggy now.  Go help him in, Hoss."

Grateful to have something to do, Hoss rushed to the door.  Doctor Martin was there, and he'd brought Reverend Evers with him.  They walked quickly to Ben's side.

"Has he been awake, Ben?"

"Briefly.  He stopped breathing a few minutes ago, but Hop Sing brought him back."

"No.  Boy choose.   Lil' Joe choose to stay."

As he listened, Dr. Martin did a quick exam.  "Ben.  Can you rouse him now for me?"

Ben nodded.  "I'll try, Paul.  Joseph.  It's Papa.  The doctor's here.  Open your eyes, boy."

Joe's eyelids twitched.  They could see his eyes roll beneath the lids, but his eyes remained closed.

(Papa.  I can't move.  Everything's too heavy.  Too many blankets on me, Pa.  So tired.)  Joe's whispery Cantonese was answered in kind by Hop Sing.

(The doctor's here now.  He wants you to answer some questions.  Please try, little Joe.)

(I'll try.  Mama will help me.)

Dr. Martin raised his eyebrows.  Joe was lisping certain words.  Paul hadn't heard him do that since he was three or four.  "Ben?"

"I don't know why he's speaking this way, Paul.  He just is."  No matter the language, Ben treasured hearing his youngest son's voice.

"Lil' Joe say he try and answer.  Say he's very tired.  Too heavy to move.  Say his Mama help him."

"Ben.  Take his hands.  One of his hands in each of yours."  Ben did as Paul directed.  Joe's hands were cold in his, and he noticed for the first time the bandage on Joe's left hand.

"Joseph, I want you to squeeze your Pa's hands."  

Paul studied both hands intently.  "Ben, anything?"

Ben shook his head, and then he felt a slight pressure from his son's right hand.  Joe moaned softly.  "Paul."

"I saw it, Ben."

(Hurts.  Hurts, Papa.  My hands burn.)

"Joe says hands burn."

Paul straightened.  "You did everything right, Adam.  Hop Sing.  By all rights, he should not have survived to this point.  He's come through the worst part of the fever stage.  Has he thrown up in the last few hours?"

"Not since this morning."  Adam replied.  "But we haven't been able to get him to drink anything."

"Yet you kept him cool.  Put the cool cloths on him for his fever, and used warm cloths to help with the pain.  He still has some sensation in his hand.  He may survive this yet."

(So tired.  Hurts, Papa.  It hurts to breathe.)

Joe's voice was barely audible, and with this last word he choked a little, his lips and eyelids turning blue as he struggled to breathe in and out.

Hop Sing quickly changed the towel from around Joe's chest.  "He say hurts to breathe, now.  Hurts him."

Reverend Evers had been sitting by the fireplace with his head bowed.  He was not ashamed of the tears running down his face.  If Jesus could weep over his friend Lazarus' death, who was he to respond differently at this time?  He prayed for God to spare Joseph's life, to spare this family any more grief.  He had been at too many bedsides like this one over this last week, and he recognized the grayness that was beginning to creep up this beloved child's face.  He cried out in his heart to his Savior to deliver this one, to restore his health.

Ben met Paul's eyes unflinchingly.  "I don't want him to suffer without cause.  Is there a chance for Joseph to live?"

"Ben.  I don't want to give you any false hopes.  He's still alive, but if he lives through all of this he may still be paralyzed.  In fact, I'd be very surprised if he wasn't.  He's lost movement in both his legs and his left arm.  His right hand still moves some, but now you can see that his chest muscles are being affected by the virus.  If it gets any worse, he won't be able to breathe.  That will kill him.  He'll suffocate."  Paul clenched his hands in angry fists.  "This disease is a killer.  A filthy killer of children.  And I don't have much to offer you to help fight it."

"We have prayer."  Hiram Evers stated calmly.  "Can I pray with him, Ben?"

"Yes.  Of course."

Reverend Evers knelt down by Joe's head.  He took out a bottle of oil and placed some on the boy's forehead.  "Joseph Francis Cartwright, can you hear me?"

"Reverend?"  It was a mere whisper of sound, but Ben caught it and held his breath, hoping that Joe would say more. 

"I'm going to pray with you, Joseph.  You can pray too if you want, all right?"

"All right."  Joe's eyes opened just a little.  "Hi Papa."

"Hello, son.  I love you, boy."

"Love you, Papa."

Hiram Evers took his young friend's hand. "Joseph, this was written by a young man not too much older than you are right now. 'The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the quiet waters.  He restores my soul.  He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.  Even though I will walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me,'"  Clem, Hoss, Adam, Ben and Paul joined Hiram in reciting the words of the 23rd Psalm with the dying boy.  "'Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  You anoint my head with oil.  My cup overflows.  Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.  Amen'."

Ben had been watching Joseph as he struggled through the words of the prayer; his breathing was ragged and labored, and it seemed to him to be getting worse, but he could not be sure.  Joe smiled softly at him, and then turned his head slightly to look at the Reverend.

"I am not afraid." He breathed.

"I know that you aren't, Joseph"

Ben didn't trust his voice now.  His heart pled with God to let his son live, but he knew that Joseph was slipping away.  He could only hold his son tightly.  "Thank you, Hiram."  He finally managed to whisper after a few moments.

Reverend Evers nodded and smiled at him.  He had tears in his own eyes as well.

Paul cleared his throat.  "Ben.  I want to try something that may help Joseph. I want to give his body a chance to rest by helping him sleep for a while.  It is definitely a risk for him, and it will be hard to balance sedating him and not interfering too much with his breathing, but I want to give him more time to fight this virus.  However, I've never tried this with a child; you should know that."  

Joe's eyes had slipped closed again, and Hop Sing again reapplied the hot towel to his chest.  Ben sat and waited for Paul to continue.  As he listened to his son struggle to breathe, his heart struggled with the decision.  Should he try to prolong Joseph's life?  He could feel Marie's presence in this room.  He could feel the peace that descended when they all prayed.  What was the right thing to do?

"Go ahead, Paul.  We're listening."  Adam spoke quietly.  Ben nodded slowly.

"I want to put him in a deep sleep.  I want his body to rest from this struggle. This combination of drugs will also relieve his pain. It will be very hard on all of you, however.  You will have to watch him to make sure that he gets enough liquids, and you will have to keep up the hot compresses.  I'll also give you a series of exercises to do for his arms and legs.  I'll show you how to move him to keep his muscles from atrophying.  It is my hope that a week of this will give him the time to conquer the virus internally and be strong enough to fight his way back."

"You said that you'd never tried this with a child.  With your adult patients, did it work?"

"About half the time, Adam.  But I've only had one patient with as severe a case of paralytic poliomyelitis as this."

"What happened?"

Paul sighed.  "She died, Adam.  She died in her sleep."  He looked at Ben again.  "He most certainly will be paralyzed, Ben.  Barring a miracle—which I do not discount—after all, he is still with us."  He smiled at Reverend Evers.

"I…don't know what to do, Paul.  He's suffered so much.  God knows how much I want to keep him here with me, but is that selfish?  What is the right thing for Joseph?"

Only silence answered him.  He knew Paul could not answer his questions.

"Why you not ask boy?  Why you not ask him what he want?"  Hop Sing looked challengingly at his oldest friend.  "Mr. Cartwright, you ask number three son what he want now.  You not be afraid of answer.  He love you."

"Why not indeed?"  Reverend Evers whispered.

Ben looked down at his son.  "Joseph.  Joe, it's Papa.  I need to know.  Do you want to keep fighting?  Joe, did you hear what Paul was explaining to us?  Do you understand, son?"

"Papa.  I want to stay with you.  With Hoss.  With Adam."  Joe panted, trying to catch his breath.  "Want to fight, Papa."  He moved his right arm a little.  "Want to fight.  Mama said she would help me…help me stay here."

"Let's get started, Paul."

Paul set to work dosing Joe with a combination of laudanum and ether.  He gave Adam, Ben, and Hop Sing specific instructions for administering it in his absence and he checked back in with them at least once a day.

Joe had been moved up to his room, and he slept an unnatural sleep for seven days.  He did not move unless one of them moved him.  And that happened every three hours around the clock as Paul had ordered.  They exercised each limb separately, and moved him to prevent bedsores.  Every twenty minutes, someone dripped several ounces of water in his mouth one drop at a time, and massaged his throat until he swallowed.  Every hour, hot towels were placed on his arms and legs and chest.

The three men were beyond weary at the end of the seven days, as were Clem and Hoss, who had struggled to keep the ranch running.

At the end of the long week, Paul had argued to keep Joseph drugged a few more days, but Ben felt like Joseph could not stand any more.  His youngest son was looking emaciated now.  All his ribs showed clearly, and his hipbones jutted up from his thin frame.

Paul disagreed, but he respected Ben's right to make the decision.  On the first Monday in May, Joseph was allowed to wake up.

Paul had warned them that it might take a day for little Joe to become conscious; it would take a while for his body to flush out all the sedatives.  Only then would they be able to see how he fared.  Would Joe wake up at all, and if he did, would he be paralyzed?  As Monday stretched into Tuesday afternoon, Ben began to despair for his youngest. Joe was barely breathing, and he had not moved, nor shown any of the signs of waking up.  Paul was worried too.  He had expected Joe's breathing rate to increase, or for him to begin to move his head at the very least. 

At two in the afternoon, Ben sent Adam to bed.   Hop Sing was already asleep, and this stretch of the day was Ben's shift to tend Joseph.  Ben was so tired, but it was his time, so he dragged himself through the nauseatingly familiar series of exercises, giving his son water, and changing the hot towels.  At the end of the third hour, he dropped to his knees.  He was at the end of his strength.  He had prayed for his miracle every day. He had prayed for God to give him back the son he'd left at home the day after Easter—that seemed years ago to him now.  He had prayed that Joseph would wake up, and talk to him, that Joe would jump out of bed and roughhouse with Hoss.  That had been his prayer, every day, every hour.  This day, this time on his knees, as the tears ran down his face, he prayed a much different prayer.  He prayed the prayer of Gethsemane.

"Oh God.  Not my will, but Your will be done.  Please help me accept Your will."  He wept now.  He cried for all the lost dreams that he had for his youngest son.  They were ashes in his mouth, bitter on his tongue.  He wept for his dream to see Joseph grow to be a fine, strong man; to see him break his first horse; to take him on his first cattle drive.  He wept for the lost dream of how he would look on his wedding day, and the dream of him holding his first child in his arms.  Ben let them all go.  He put them in the Hands of his Heavenly Father.  Hands he could trust.  He had finally realized, after all these days, who loves Joseph more?  Who has the purer love for his son?  Couldn't he trust Joseph's Creator with Joseph's future?

After a time, Ben's tears slowly stopped and he got up to look out the window.  The sun was setting, and the red-gold of the dying day painted the sky with glorious light.  He felt a peace beyond understanding fill him, and he knelt again there at the window.  He closed his eyes and thanked God for all his sons, for every day that they had been a part of his life.   He wept again, but they were tears of thanksgiving now, tears of joy for the blessings that he had been given.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he wiped his eyes.

"Sorry Adam.  I should have started Joseph's exercises already…"  He was interrupted by a giggle that he had thought he would never hear again.

"Not Adam, Papa.  Me.  I'm hungry.  Is it suppertime yet?  I'm really hungry.  I think that I could eat more than Hoss tonight."

Ben turned and swept his son into his arms.  He buried his face in the soft skin of Joseph's neck and drank in the feel and smell of this small boy. 

"Papa.  That tickles."  Joe giggled and wiggled away from his whiskers, moving every part of his body as he escaped his father's loose grasp.

Ben watched him and rejoiced, thanking God for the movement, the dance of life that had begun again for his youngest son.

The End.

Poliomyelitis is a nasty little virus that only got real serious for us humans when we began to take sanitation seriously.  Before the practice of dumping waste away from drinking water, most everyone got the poliovirus asymptomatically—resulting in a self-limiting diarrhea.  Thanks to Salk and Sabin, there are effective vaccines available worldwide, and polio is well on its way to extinction.  But back in the 1850's, well, you saw what could happen.  As for the medical steps taken by Dr. Martin, his flyer advice was accurate for the time, and later treatments did try to rest the patient to see what the body could recover on its own.  Some people made remarkable recoveries, even from severe paralytic poliomyelitis.

All scripture references are from the NIV translation and cited in the story.  He is risen!


End file.
